


The First Taste

by laudanum_cafe



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Married Sex, Rimming, Smut, Stump Muncher, butt stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 17:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laudanum_cafe/pseuds/laudanum_cafe
Summary: It's become an urban legend at this point: Pete Wentz has a near unhealthy affinity for pizza.Turns out, pizza is not Pete's favorite thing to eat.





	The First Taste

**Author's Note:**

> This was all caused by a picture of the Stump Muncher Truck that SnitchesAndTalkers shared with me and the resulting text conversation that took place afterwards.

“Pete? Babe, is that you?” Patrick calls out over his shoulder in the general direction of the front door. He already knows it's Pete when he hears the jangling of his many keys and the clicking of lock cylinders sliding loudly back into place as he returns home from work. It makes Patrick chuckle when he then hears the distinctly excited wailing of two feline voices as Seven and Midi happily greet their other “parent” when Pete enters the living room. The sounds of Pete baby-talking to the two cats, and their answering meows, gets incrementally louder as they all make their way into the kitchen. 

“Hey, Daddy!” Pete greets enthusiastically as he wraps his arms around Patrick from behind and leans forward to kiss his warm neck. He rubs his face against the patch of scratchy dirty blonde stubble before peeking over Patrick's shoulder to try and see what was cooking on the stove. “Oh, fuck that smells good. What are you making, babe?”

Patrick lifts the lid off of his Calphalon sauté pan with a slight flourish. “I'm trying out that chana masala recipe you sent me last month. I think it's turning out pretty good. I played around with the spice mix but I like how it's turning out so far.”

“Hell yeah!” Pete exclaims. “I'm fucking starving.”

“Go pour some drinks and find something to watch on TV. I think there are some new episodes of Beat Shazam we haven't watched yet on the DVR. The jasmine rice and naan need a few more minutes but I'll fix our plates and take them out as soon as it's ready.” 

Pete grinned happily while giving a viciously hard squeeze to Patrick's ass before complying to get their beverages and leave the kitchen. 

They've been together for almost 16 years now but it sure hasn't gotten old yet. 

Not even close. 

**

After dinner was demolished and the dishes were washed, Pete and Patrick lounged in front of the television to half-watch whatever was now playing in the background while they cuddled and chatted about whatever random topics came to mind. 

“Ooo, you know what sounds good, if I wasn't so full? Key lime pie. I haven't had a slice of that in forever.” Pete’s eyes closed as he rubbed his distended belly. “Not since our trip to Key West last year, remember?”

“You know, I still don't believe it was a coincidence that our vacation just happened to coincide with Hemingway Days, Pete.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that claim.” Pete said with a wink. “Remember how you got that really bad sunburn and had to stay in bed for almost two days? And how we ate our weight in key lime pie and you gave me like, 17 blowjobs? Oh, man. Good times.”

Patrick patted Pete's hand as the dark haired man took a short stroll down memory lane. 

“I read today that a person’s attraction to a certain food is based on having a good relationship with the person you remember first experiencing it with.” Pete quipped with a dirty, smarmy grin as he relayed a little trivia tidbit he found while scrolling through the internet earlier that day. 

“Really?” chirped Patrick at the mention of a fun fact. “Hmm, guess that's why I love pumpkin squares.”

“Hey!” Pete cried, feeling slighted. “You're supposed to make dirty allusions to key lime pie, whipped cream, and blowjobs.”

“Eh, key lime pie is just okay. Pretty overrated if you want my opinion.”

Pete immediately sat up with a very serious expression on his face. “Hey!”

Patrick tried to keep up the teasing but he couldn't help breaking out into giggles at Pete's overreaction. Then a thought occurred to him. “Wait a second, if you find key lime pie appealing due to an association with vacations and epic blowjobs, then what is your weird fixation to pizza caused by?”

“Oh my god, that whole Pete-and-Pizza urban legend.” Pete groaned. 

“Urban legend? You legitimately eat pizza on a weekly basis, Pete.”

“Trick, I'm just lazy and pizza is easy to find and versatile enough where you can always switch up the styles or toppings so it doesn't get boring. Don't get me wrong, my affinity for pizza is pure and true, but it's not my favorite thing to eat. Not by a long shot.”

“I'm just teasing, Pete. You know, I think favorite foods are ones that you don't get to indulge in on a regular basis. Like, how I only get pumpkin squares on holidays? If I had them every day, it wouldn't be as special and I'd surely tire of them at some point.”

“Exactly, babe. It's like, you WANT to eat them all the time but because you can't, the anticipation makes the taste all the more delectable.”

They fell into a peaceful quiet as they turned their attention back to the forgotten television show. Pete had a reason for bringing up that little “fun fact” and he waited waited waited for Patrick’s mind to mull their conversation over. It was definitely a set up. Pete had carefully and methodically lined up his pieces...cast his fishing line...he just needed to wait for that nibble…

“So, wait…”

(Gotcha bitch!)

“...if pizza isn't your favorite, then what is?”

(Time to reel this one in, Wentzy.)

“My favorite thing to eat? Oh, that's easy. It's that ass, Trickydoll.” Pete, now primed into predatory mode, pounced on his husband and pinned him to the couch. “Fucking, just go ahead and tattoo ‘Stump Muncher’ on my forehead because I swear to every deity and the Babadook, too, that all I wanna do when I'm near you is eat--your--ass.” 

Patrick just melted into the couch with a dirty smirk of his own. “Oh, is that right, now? Mmm, well Daddy’s got a mouthful for you, babe. You ready for dessert?” 

Pete didn't hesitate for a moment and maybe his reaction was a bit aggressive but that couldn't be helped right now. Patrick was about to let him do his absolute favorite thing in the world and he was not about to give the singer a single moment to change his mind. The older man stood up abruptly, yanking forcefully on Patrick's arm. The moment they were both standing, Pete crouched slightly and hauled Patrick over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. With a sharp smack onto the blonde man’s ass, Pete jogged them into the bedroom. 

Some of the air was knocked out of Patrick's lungs as he hit the mattress. He had only a moment to look up and watch as Pete started yanking Patrick's pajama bottoms down. 

“Pete, wait! Babe, hold on wait a sec...I haven't had a shower yet!” 

Pete froze and visibly shuddered. “Oh, man. Even better. I wanna smell you all filthy and musky. Oh dear gods, YES.” He crashed down on top of Patrick, sucking at his neck and scratching his jagged nails down his sides underneath the shirt. 

Against his will and better judgement, Patrick just fucking moaned. Pete had the weirdest fixations but it drove him insane with lust. 

“Pete, seriously. I haven't showered and I've been cleaning the house all day. I'm all gross from being sweaty. Come on, let me up. I'll go shower and I'll even douche if you really wanna fuck.”

Pete pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “No. No no no no. Come on, babe. Please...just...let me have this.” 

Pete loved the way Patrick always smelled so clean and sweet; he always chose body washes that had soft vanilla or coconut notes that complimented his natural body chemistry well. But Pete absolutely adored the natural musky smell of an unwashed Patrick. It brought about memories of their early years together; dirty boys in the back of a van, covered in sweat, unwashed for up to a week at a time. The funk of quick fucks, night sweats, adrenaline highs, cum covered clothing...  
It sparked the most primal animalistic sexual reaction in Pete. 

Who was Patrick to deny his husband his weird, filthy wishes, especially if he was going to end up coming harder than hell because of it? Dear gods, Patrick fucking LOVED being rimmed. 

Pete knew his husband had relented when Patrick sat up and quickly took off his shirt and then leaned back onto his elbows looking up seductively. Pete completed his previously halted actions of removing Patrick's pants and tossed the clothing haphazardly off the side of the bed. Patrick continued to stare up at his husband as he spread his legs, planting his feet firmly on either side of Pete, while shifting his ass up to tease and tempt his husband even more. Pete dove down in between those legendary thighs and breathed in deeply, the scent of Patrick overwhelming him in the most gratifying and intoxicating way. 

“Here's another ‘fun fact’ I read today, Trick”, Pete started, knowing full well that stating random trivia, even in the throes of passion, had an aphrodisiac effect on Patrick's brain. “Napoleon Bonaparte used to love the unwashed smell of his wife, Josephine, so much that he would beg her not to bathe for days so he could enjoy her natural fragrance at it's most pungent.” Pete lowered his head and nuzzled into the dark curls of Patrick’s pubic hair; inhaling deeply and so thankful that the singer had obviously neglected to manscape. It trapped in his aroma even more. “That's how I feel about you, Trickybaby. You smell so fucking good and it makes me want to do so many sinful things to you. It drives me crazy.”

“Goddamnit, Pete. You're weird as fuck.” Patrick rasped out as he watched Pete's face dive lower to caress his balls. “Just shut up and start licking already.”

“As you wish, baby.” 

Pete shimmied onto his belly as Patrick hitched his hips up to throw a pillow underneath himself to provide some leverage. Pete positioned himself comfortably and grabbed each of his husband's ass cheeks firmly in his hands, massaging and kneading at the surprisingly taut and firm posterior. With a quick smack to his right cheek Pete then grabbed again and pulled his ass apart exposing his beautiful, pink hole. Without any hesitation, Pete buried his face deep in the crevasse of Patrick's rear and started licking; long, hard strokes of a fully flattened tongue, saliva dripping over his husband's sensitive little muscle. Patrick started growling and reached for his dick, pulling furiously, immediately lost to the thrilling sensations that were slamming into his body. Pete pulled back slightly, gathered a mouthful of saliva, and dribbled spit onto Patrick's tantalizing twitching hole. Patrick, the secret little sex gremlin, let loose and fucking screamed. 

“Oh, fuck yeah! Yes! Yes yes yes! Spit on me, baby boy. Get me all fucking wet!”

Satisfied that there was enough moisture, Pete worked two fingers into Patrick's ass and went back to licking the rim that contracted so tightly around his digits. It only took a few tries before he found that glorious bundle deep inside and started thrumming aggressively as he licked/sucked/straight-up-consumed Patrick's ass. 

Pete was becoming lightheaded; the level of arousal that was coursing through his body was almost overwhelming. His heartbeat was jackhammering at a level that would put normal humans at risk for a coronary episode. But Pete was an exceptional specimen that only grew more powerful and forceful thanks to the fuel that Patrick's scents and fluids provided. 

Face buried deep in between his husband's ass, Pete moaned a vibration that was a perfect syncopation to the rhythm his tongue and fingers created. 

That was it for Patrick. Right hand a blur and left clutching at the comforter in primal desperation, Patrick threw his head back and just SCREAMED through the most mind shattering orgasm. It was the largest load he'd ever experienced and he kept coming and coming; dick pulsing and twitching until his tensed and rigid body finally collapsed. 

Patrick toppled bonelessly onto the bed; mind going completely blank as unconsciousness took a hold of him. 

**

Patrick's eyes fluttered open to find Pete, now changed into his usual sleepwear instead of the clothing he was previously wearing, stroking sweaty blonde locks away from his face and smiling fondly. 

“Well, THAT was new. Never seen anyone pass out from coming so hard. I deserve an award.” Pete said with obvious affection. 

“Dude. That was amazing. How long was I out?”

“Only about five minutes.” Pete leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Patrick’s cheek. The blonde haired man bristled. “Don't worry, I brushed my teeth and washed my face already so you don't have to feel weird. Though...if it were up to me, I'd love to have your stink on my face all day.”

“Shut up, Pete. You're such a fucking weirdo.”

Pete laughed and stroked a hand over Patrick's sweat covered chest, admiring his still nude form. When he heard the air conditioner kick on, he pulled the comforter up to cover them both, nuzzling his face in Patrick's neck to breathe in his post coital scent. 

“Stump Muncher. I should totally get that tattooed on me. Hehehe.”

“Go the fuck to sleep, Pete.”

“Dat ass...it's what's for dinner.”

“Pete…”

“Face down, ass up, that's the Stump I love to munch!”

Patrick closed his eyes and smiled. 

“I love you, too, Pete.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am always available for meaningful conversations, dank meme hunting, randomness, or whatever...catch me on Tumblr @laudanumcafe


End file.
